


In Praise of Bacchus

by Bleed_Peroxide



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleed_Peroxide/pseuds/Bleed_Peroxide
Summary: A series of (mostly erotic) drabbles based on various CuriousCat ship prompts I've been given.... especially more contentious ones. Warnings for specific ships are provided in the chapter titles. Use that to skip to the ones that appeal to you and/or use that to skip the ones you'd rather avoid. I might expand on some of these into full fics, depending on personal inspiration and/or reader interest.About the aforementioned Warrior of Light: I play as a male Miqo'te, so that's what I envisioned when I wrote 'em.To spare spamming the ship tags with mere drabbles, go in with the assumption that if they're a character listed above, they're being fucked/fucking someone else in the tags at some point.Yes, that includes Alphinaud and Ryne.
Kudos: 12





	1. Dalliances (Emet-Selch/m!WOL)

Emet had to admit: with the surreal scenery of Amaurot, the jade lighting cast upon elegant spires... his Warrior made a pretty little picture as he lingered in their assigned meeting place. The Miqo'te was, as he expected, wearing the pretense of calm like a costume: crossed arms, one leg propped against the wall as he leaned against it. He looked almost _bored_ , as though meeting with a business partner rather than a mortal foe.

The way those ears flicked at every sound betrayed his tension. "You seem tense, Cain," Emet-Selch purred.

Emet-Selch felt a spark of wicked pleasure as the Miqo'te startled at his voice. He watched Emet approach with keen eyes, arms uncrossing and hanging loosely at his sides – and, the Ascian noted, within easy reach of those twin chakrams at his hips.

"Come now, boy. I told you I only meant no harm. Since when have I lied to you?"

To Emet-Selch's surprise, a faint flush bloomed in the Warrior's cheeks. "Well, yes. That's true. It's just... You.... I.... the others..."

It dawned on him.

"Ahhh.... you didn't tell them we were meeting, did you."

Despite the phrasing, it wasn't a question. Cain's gazed lowered to about the older man's navel as he gave a sheepish nod. It was endearingly childish, given how often the boy affected that serious, silent demeanor.

Dark ears flicked up in shock as Emet closed the distance between them. Quicker than even Cain could react, Emet cupped one hand around his hip, drawing their bodies against one another. The other easily gathered both his slim hands in his and pressing them against the wall behind his head.

For a moment, there was thick silence as Cain's eyes slowly rose to meet Emet's... and there was no fear there so much as... anticipation. Want.

"Tell me, _boy_. Did you omit the facts of your absence because you thought something untoward might happen?"

This time, it was the Ascian's turn to be surprised as Cain chased his taunt with a greedy kiss, as though wanting to relish the remnants of it on his tongue. He sighed against Emet-Selch's lips like a starved man.

Breaking apart just enough to catch their breath, Cain arched against him and answered, "I was hoping it might... if you're willing."


	2. Competence (Solus/Zenos)

**[ TW: non-con; incest (grandfather/grandson; implied father/son) ]**

* * *

Were one to walk into the throne room, they might be met with a most scandalous sight – namely, the crown prince of the Garlean Empire on his knees before its founder himself, albeit far younger and robust than most remembered.

It might take an interloper another moment to recognize the bobbing motions of the prince's head for what they were... that is, if the lewd sound of an agile tongue laving skin didn't give it away first.

Sighing impatiently, Solus thread a hand through blond locks with a delicacy that was almost tender. He gave the boy in his knees a moment to get accustomed to it before, with far less grace, he tightened his grip and pressed the lad's head forward until he was met with the sound of gagging.

Zenos pulled off of the older man's cock with a small gasp, wiping at his mouth with a scowl that bordered on a snarl.

"I refuse to believe any whelp of mine is this incompetent," Solus sneered. "Surely your father taught you better."

"My _father_ was a bit more concerned with picking up after the mess you–"

Whatever retort Zenos had on his tongue was cut short as Solus forced himself back into the wet heat of his grandson's mouth.

"You forget yourself, _boy_ ," Solus said coldly, pressing deeper until Zenos swallowed audibly against the rigid muscle pressing into his throat. "I told you to suck, not to speak."


	3. Memorials (m!WOL & f!friend | platonic)

**Context: my Warrior of Light was in love with Haurchefant; his friend and guildmate, Hahn Lockforte, was in love with Ysayle.**

**Both associate Ishgard with love and grief.**

* * *

By now, his routine was all but writ in stone. Each month, Cain would travel to Bentbranch Meadows and gather a bouquet's worth of carnations -- the best that he could find. He would then make the painfully familiar trip to Providence Point. He told himself he could have simply bought them, but something felt more proper in collecting the flowers himself.

He prepared an extra cup of hot cocoa and regaled the man with that month's exploits. He tried to keep them as light-hearted as he could. Francel had wondered at the healthiness of his ritual, as much as any high-born Ishgardian could. Upon seeing the Warrior of Light himself making this trip, he had simply remarked with surprise, "So you visit him still. He would be glad."

 _Still._ Such a small word carried so much consternation.

What varied this trip was the accompaniment of another on what was usually an immensely private affair.

But if there was anyone who understood what he meant when he said he missed the warmth of snow.... it was Hahn Lockforte.

Though it was initially uncomfortable to have his usual conversation with a cold headstone while she was present, Hahn filled the awkward gaps with her own takes on their exploits throughout the Source and, later, the First.

For once, much of the laughter was genuine, as they reminisced over their adventures. For once, he left his lover's grave with a lighter heart than when he had come.

When he voiced his gratitude to Hahn, she brushed it off with a wave of the hand.

"Oh, bah. It's just that the milk you used before was all wrong."

\- - - - - - 

Hahn, Cain noticed, had a habit of disappearing with a flippant promise: "Just gotta visit an old friend. Don't worry, I'll be back before long."

For once, rather than letting her go on her way, he brought a few Nymeia lilies with him. He felt rather foolish for not catching on to it sooner. How often he had seen the way she carried on with a stiff upper lip whenever their guild would travel to that civilization lost in time. It was by the way her eyes had always avoided a certain region that he knew precisely where he might find Hahn.

He found her sitting near one of the edges of the spires. He gave her a polite tap on the shoulder, and she glanced up at him in surprise.

Holding out the bouquet, he set his down next to what must have been Hahns. He unlocked his satchel and held it out before Hahn. Inside was a metal container full of still-boiling water, as well as three cups and Ishgardian tea leaves.

He set one cup before Hahn, before himself, and then set one before the bouquet.

"I believe she liked this kind?" he asked, to which Hahn gave him a watery smile and nodded.


	4. Sweet Dreams (Thancred/Ryne)

**[ TW: somnophilia; drugging ]**

* * *

Thancred, thank the gods, could have slept through a typhoon – and that was before she had slipped a little bit of encouragement in his drink. Thancred would never see her as anything but a child, even as he impressed upon the gravity of her duty.

He insisted that he wanted her to "explore her womanhood" with young men – boys, really – that were "more appropriate."

She had spent her adolescence with a man that was like something from a fairy tale. Tall, strong, heroic, an accomplished warrior.... when she heard the women in Eulmore wistfully recount the qualities they sought in a man, she noted how often her guardian fit each and every single criterion.

It was _cruel_ , really, that he would ask her to acquire a taste for offal when she was accustomed to the banquet before her. What boy could make her damn near shiver with unspoken want when he came back from training, shirtless and glistening with sweat?

He mumbled wordlessly in his sleep, arching against her hand as curious fingers trailed against the line in his cock. It was one thing to see clinical depictions of such anatomy in one of Urianger's many tomes; it was quite another to touch, warm and velvety in a way no words could have let her anticipate.

Words could not describe the exquisite way in which he already leaked just slightly from the tip, nor the way it would make her mouth water. Words could have not prepared her for how sinful he looked, writhing even in his dreams as she touched him however she pleased.

Did she dare? Feathery touches were one thing, but surely, _surely_ he would feel it if she were....

"Ryne," he murmured sleepily, arching into her palm as her grip instinctively tightened upon hearing her name.

Not Minfilia.

Ryne.

His body, at least, already associated such pleasure with her.


	5. Green (Emet-Selch/Ryne)

"Ah, ah, careful," Emet chided gently, tapping Ryne's chin. She lifted her mouth from his cock just enough to meet his eyes questioningly. She tilted her in a way that reminded the older man of a scolded puppy, though the innocent picture was shattered by the lewd gleam of spend on her lips.

He curled his lips just enough to show more of his teeth, tapping them with a finger for emphasis.

Ryne flushed and nodded. "S-sorry, you'd warned me about that, I just –"

He flicked one of her tender nipples teasingly, causing the girl to yelp with surprise.

"You're still green. Mistakes are inevitable. Thancred refuses to let you so much as an ilm out of his sight, and I don't imagine he'd let you do _this_ with him."

"'I'm just a girl'," Ryne recited mockingly, rolling her eyes.

Emet laughed heartily. "Oh, you are. But your Thancred is just as much a child to me as you are. I give you as much credit as you deserve, _Oracle_."  
  



	6. Family Bonding (Emet-Selch/m!WOL/Zenos)

Cain felt as though he were drowning. The blond man before him seemed determined to lay claim to every inch of his flesh, lips leaving a fiery trail down his neck, clavicle, down the length of his torso. Their couplings typically involved rough concrete scraping against his back, as the prince took him against the wall of some burnt-down village or the spacious grounds of the Royal Menagerie. To be given such treatment could almost be regarded as tender.

It likely had something to do with the fact that the man's great-grandfather was currently buried to the hilt in the Warrior of Light, thrusting into him as though trying to shatter him to pieces.

It was a dizzying assault on his senses, and Cain would have asked if they had some unspoken competition between them. It certainly seemed that way, given the way both men fucked him with the same mercilessness which with they subjugated sovereign territories. It only seemed inevitable that neither was particularly good at sharing.

He would have asked, if he had the ability to speak beyond broken moans. "Don't you dare," Zenos growled, as Solus's voice hitched between thrusts. He felt Emet's cock twitch inside him, and he almost giggled at the absurdity of it all.

"Just come in my mouth," Cain panted. "You can finish in-"

Whatever reassurances he had died on his tongue as Solus shifted the angle and made Cain see stars.


	7. Hand-Me-Down (Emet-Selch/Alphinaud)

Where's that wise mouth of yours gone now, boy?" Emet-Selch sneered, thumbing cruelly at the leaking slit of the boy's cock before resuming his strokes. The young Elezen on his lap was quite a lovely little thing, pretty and petite like a porcelain doll.... though with his clothes unfastened and disheveled in their haste, he made a decidedly more debauched picture.

Alphinaud only whimpered as he curled against Emet's chest, hiding the way his cheeks flushed with equal parts pleasure and humiliation. Bracketing the older mans' thighs with his own, he resisted the urge to rut against him like a cat in heat.

Not pleased by his silence, Emet-Selch hummed thoughtfully and nipped gently at the boy's neck, at his clavicles, at rose-pink nipples that hardened beneath his tongue and teeth. With the boy's skin as pale as it was, he left satisfying crescent bruises in his wake.

Let the boy's gilded tongue lie his way out of that one.

“Emet, sir, _please_ ," Alphinaud begged mindlessly.

The Ascian's grip in the boy's arousal tightened, and the moan that spilled from the boy's lips was heavy with gratitude.

"Oh, but you beg _marvelously_ ," Emet-Selch purred, "No wonder Gaius couldn't get enough of you."


	8. Evenings (Thancred/Urianger/Ryne)

Ryne did her best to maintain a stoic face, as did Urianger. The two of them carried on a conversation about some mundane topic – something about visiting the market, picking up various whatsits that none could be bothered to commit to memory.

They all sat in the living room, as any family might. Unable to stand distance from either, she took her place resolutely in the middle.

Urianger flipped through the pages of a book with one hand, languidly turning the page every so often.

The other had two fingers buried knuckle-deep in Ryne's cunt, thumb idly circling her clit with the patience of a monk. Every now and then, the girl's responses would stutter as he increased his pace ever so slightly.... and his lips, in turn, would quirk with amusement.

Thancred was uncharacteristically silent. His lips were instead occupied laving at the girl's nipples, almost reverently. The delicate little things hardened delightfully beneath his tongue, and the girl arched desperately into his mouth. Whatever modesty she'd once had about making her desires known had vanished long ago, as her shy requests were met with gusto, time and time again.

"I - oh, gods - I think that perhaps we s-should...."

"Hmmm?" Urianger hummed, all feigned innocence. "Thy thoughts seem scattered, Ryne. Perhaps I can lend thee a hand in this matter."


	9. Slide (Gaius/Alphinaud)

**Sometimes I like writing about Alphinaud with a cock. Sometimes I like writing about Alphinaud with a cunt. This is one of the latter occasions.**

* * *

Alphinaud would never admit how desperately he loved the recklessness with which Gaius fucked him.

He loved the way Gaius would groan the way a man might as he stood before a feast, the way his eyes raked across his skin as though contemplating the best way in which to devour him.

Gaius would grip his hips with enough force to leave bruises, tongue laving at the cleft beneath his thighs as though sampling him. Usually, by this time, Alphinaud was already slick with arousal. Gaius seemed to enjoy taking his time, never so much as touching his clit in lieu of fucking him with his tongue instead.

The feeling of that muscle sliding against his walls.... it made him near mad with desire.

 _Just fuck me already,_ Alphinaud plead, nearly biting his lip raw to keep himself from begging aloud.

"Look at you," Gaius cooed, sliding a calloused finger lightly along the boy's labia. He rubbed his fingers together, admiring the arousal evident on them, before licking away at the remainder with the carelessness of a child licking at icing.

"Gaius, please..." he tried.

Gaius rested the head of his cock right where Alphinaud wanted it.... but rather than simply pushing in, he repeated his ministrations from earlier, teasing along his folds rather than simply going in.

"Use your words, boy," Gaius chided him.

"Please f-fuck me, sir," the Elezen pleaded.

"Good boy."


	10. Communion (Aymeric/Alphinaud)

"This is my body, this is my blood," the priest said in solemn tones, to which the parishioners echoed his words, followed by what Ser Aymeric knew would be the placement of the thin wafer upon their tongues.

Mere fulms away, he relished his own communion as he took Alphinaud's cock into his mouth reverently. They'd been reckless enough, desperate enough, to utilize the cry room. Rather, it had been the boy's idea, observing as he had that none of those in the pews had children young enough to necessitate such accommodations.

Alphinaud had feigned a headache, insisting the silence would help him.

Aymeric couldn't complain. For once, they had a comparatively soft floor and actual furniture rather than the darkened alley of some far-flung part of the Brume in which to share their rushed couplings.

That said.... Aymeric's armor made it all but impossible to be truly comfortable on his knees.

"Be as loud as you wish," Aymeric insisted.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Alphinaud answered, "Not all of us feel it necessary to carry on as loudly as you do, ser. Or did you assume that I was being modest?"

"Were you?"

Clicking his tongue, Alphinaud didn't respond to that.

Taking that as the challenge it was, Aymeric swirled his tongue around the head in a way that had the younger boy's grip in his hair tighten painfully. He glanced up, noticing the way the boy bit into his palm to keep himself quiet.

 _Liar,_ Aymeric thought with amusement.

"Let me hear you," he said. "If you'll indulge me."


	11. Brother of Ash (m!WOL/Hamuji Gah)

My sister gave me the prompt of my WOL with an Amalj'aa, knowing I've never thought of it before and that it'd be a good challenge.

Good thing, too. I ended up really like this one.

**TW: sex work. My Warrior of Light was trafficked as a child and still engages in (now voluntary) sex work.**

* * *

For once in his life, Cain was at a loss as the client before him was wholly new to him. He had serviced all manner of clientele, from conservative Ishgardians to the more decadent people in Eulmore.

His clientele, however, had always been Human.... and certainly not one so distinctly unfamiliar to him as an Amalj'aa. To his eternal shame, he felt once again like a fresh Jewel, shaking as he poured the man tea and tried to make light conversation. The man — Hamujj Gah, he had learned — had paid for his full services. It was a great unknown that hung over the Miqo'te's like a suspended axe, both literally and figuratively.

The crea— _man_ himself was perfectly polite and pleasant to listen to. It was not his company that Cain found so nerve-wracking.

But Cain had no clue what to do with.... whatever lay beneath his azure armor. What did he have? What was he supposed to do? How _did_ the Amalj'aa even approach the matter of sex? Was it even physically possible?

He was surprised, therefore, when he felt a clawed finger gently lift his head up, which he had been keeping resolutely fixed upon the cup of tea on the table. Before he had time to process what was happening, he felt sharp fangs very, very gently nip at the column of his neck. He had felt lips touch the skin there with more ferocity — and gods, he had forgotten how very sensitive his neck was. He would have felt horror at how readily he seemed to melt in the man's touch, tilting his head to give Hamujj Gah more access.

"Are your concerns allayed, little one?" Hamujj Gah asked.

In Cain's ears, Amal'jaa speech had always sounded guttural and unpleasant, like sandpaper against his ears. Yet somehow, that same kind of voice now was deliciously rough; he was reminded of the way sucking another man off left his own voice wrecked and raw.

"Fully," Cain answered with a toothy grin, to which Hamujj Gah responded in kind before guiding him to the bedroom.


	12. Meetings (Emet-Selch & Haurchefant | Platonic)

I have a silly, indulgent head-canon that the voice my WOL heard as he created his anima weapon is that of Haurchefant, and that the knight's aether is woven into said weapon. As a result, he has a known obsession with "collecting" them. Few besides his guildmates know the real reason.

* * *

The two men regarding one another curiously. Both men knew at a glance that they had known the Warrior of Light, far more intimately than any other. Haurchefant could not help but think of a cat rubbing against the leg of the man it favored, though he would have never dared utter such a wicked thought around Cain.

Having cast aside the notion of jealousy with his mortal shell, Haurchefant merely tilted his as he pondered this.

"How interesting," he wondered aloud. "You have the same presence as Thordan, yet it's clear that you and Cain knew one another well."

Snorting with amusement, Emet quipped, "Thordan was... shall we say, _familiar_ with some colleagues of mine."

So this Haurchefant was more clever than he looked. Emet had assumed the other man possessed more enthusiasm and less intellect than a Labrador.

Haurchefant seemed unbothered by this, and there was something so eerily familiar about that nonchalance that Emet felt as though he knew the man.

He remembered the sensation of an arrow going through his heart, of the way Cain's fingers seemed to touch his bow with perhaps more gentleness than any weapon warranted.

Emet had heard of Anima weapons in the past, those fanciful notions of the "ultimate weapon" that weaponsmiths salivated over.

He'd never dreamed that his Warrior had actually undertaken such a task.... or that he would recognize the man before him as the very same aether infused into the arrow that had finally put an end to his life.

"Ahhh.... so it was you," Emet said, to which Haurchefant offered a beautific smile.


	13. Pretense (Emet-Selch/Gaia)

"E-Emet-Selch..." Gaia whispered, to which the man before her dipped his body in a bow.

The man answered with mocking gentility, "Gaia, if we're to be reciting our names to one another. But I'm sure you invited me here for far less formal purposes."

Flushing, Gaia nodded.

Ryne had spoken of Emet-Selch with a reverence that she lacked when speaking of her own Hydaelyn. Gaia had teased her about it and laughed, "You speak of him like one would a god."

To which Ryne answered, without a hint of jest, "Wouldn't you, if he were the one that created yours?"

Gaia hadn't known how to answer that. The notion that man could beget divinity was inconceivable.

Power, fascination..... it was inevitable, really. She was a teenage girl, confined to chastity amidst their two older guardians.... and curiosity and desire lent themselves to rather peculiar yearnings. Yearnings that, alas, she did not temper nearly so vigilantly in her sleep.

"Well, let us be about it, then," Emet-Selch remarked, sounding for all the world like he were bored. Before Gaia could quite process what he meant, she felt herself pressed rather unceremoniously onto her back, skirt hiked up to her hips and a gloved hand pressed against her thigh. The other, confusingly, was pressed against her mouth. She let out a sound of dismay, but little more than a small exhale came out.

Fear spiked in her... and a dangerous thrill of lust that she felt all the way to her knees. She had never spoken of such wicked desires to a soul, though it seemed that Emet-Selch knew them well.

Perhaps sensing her dismay, he scoffed. "Spare me the act. Do not pretend as though this were precisely the kind of coupling you dreamt about."

He tipped his head to her left, to which she saw Thancred fast asleep on the cot only malms away.

"Unless you want to wake him, you'll keep quiet and do precisely what I say," Emet whispered. He dipped a hand beneath the band of her smallclothes, the pad of his finger pressed against her clit in a way that had her arching into it.

He circled the little thing curiously, smiling widening as she moaned against his palm.

"Oh, but you're an eager one, aren't you? Look how wet you are already."

She nodded desperately, not trusting herself to speak.

Smiling, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Good girl. Now, spread your legs a bit for me, would you?"


	14. Unkind (Haurchefant & Stephanivien | Platonic)

Takes place during Heavensward. My Warrior of Light was in love with Haurchefant. His friend and guildmate, Hanyo Hamato, is desperately in love with Stephanivien, who runs the machinist's guild.

* * *

“Hanyo doesn’t chastise you for showing for your rendezvous stinking of oil?” Haurchefant asked by way of greeting. It was routine for Stephanivien to be asked a rather personal question in lieu of a proper salutation — the man was odd in many ways.

“He usually reeks of blood,” the machinist answered. “I’ve learned not to ask whose it is or what it’s from.”

At that, Haurchefant laughed as though he’d heard a most splendid punchline.

Curious.

“Your boy is a warrior as well, is he not?” Stephanivien asked. “I doubt he comes to you dolled up all the time.”

Scratching his chin, the knight chuckled self-consciously. It didn’t sound right in his voice.

“He won’t permit me to see him any other way,” he explained with a rueful smile. “He won’t even sleep in, lest I see him in a state of imperfection.”

Stephanivien poured an extra pint of ale, handing it to the other man wordlessly.

As terrible as Ishgard could be... Eorzea was equally unkind to its children.


End file.
